


Tol of The Dead

by ArtAndStuff



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dadza, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Just Ghostbur feeling things, Others are generally mentioned, idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtAndStuff/pseuds/ArtAndStuff
Summary: Everything's cold when he wakes up.Everything's cold.Just, cold.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	Tol of The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> First work on here.  
> Please let me know how it is.  
> It's very short.

Everything felt cold.

  


One would guess it would be cold when you’re dead.

  


Solid black eyes looked out over the land as the others started the clean up of what happened.

  


_ What happened? _

  


_ Why was there a large hole? Where’s L’Manburge? _

  


He guesses this is L’Manburge. That’s the last place he remembers being. A spike of pain runs through his head.  _ Well, that’s not the only thing he remembers last. _

  


He sits there, watching people he vaguely remembers moving all the rubble and rebuilding structures. He sits there, and waits until someone notices him in the rubble.

  


~~

  


He continues to watch the others around him, staying hidden for the most part. He tries to mimic them, starting from scratch with his items. He mimics them with buildings, soon finding a love for it.

  


He soon mimics his memories. Repeating the steps he was taught so long ago.  _ Chinese lanterns, when was the last time he made those? It’s been so long at this point. _

  


Mimicking the steps, he makes more and more. Soon a pile forms and soon they’re lit and lifted into the sky.

  


He’s so cold and numb, he doesn’t feel the tears rolling down his cheeks.

  


~~

  


Books, one of the few things he can hold without having to focus on it. They give him knowledge of events, clears some of the fog of his memories.

_ Only for it to return,  _ **_worse than before._ **

  


Holding the book and quill, quickly jotting down what he remembers. Before he loses those memories as well.

  


He’s a mess and he knows it.

  


The pain in his chest worsens, and he grows more cold.

  


~~

  


People started to talk with him. They’re all unsettled, looking ready to run. Look so uncomfortable standing next to him, to even look at him.

  


He misses being able to touch people. Misses the simplest thing such as a hug, a hand hold.

  


The want to hug his son grows. The want to be there for him. To make up for whatever happened.

  


He’s sorry.  _ So sorry for everything. _

  


_ Slipping,  _ **_he’s slipping again._ **

  


But, he has to be strong.  _ His father’s words echo through his head. _

  


~~

  


Standing in the old forgotten ravine of Pogtopia, he looks to the button covered walls. Soulless, fully black eyes unblinking as he looks around.

  


He’s lost his son. He’s lost everything. He was trying so hard.  _ Only for him to slip away. _

  


It’s fair though, he wasn’t the best when he was alive.

  


He sits there, getting lost in his mind. Trying to remember everything, trying to push past the pain that it brings up.

He wants to remember everything,  _ even the bad times. _

He wants to learn from it,  _ wants to correct himself. _

  


Soft footsteps sound behind him before a voice pulls him from his pain.

  


“Wilbur?” His father.  _ What has he come to scold him for now? _

He can only reply with a soft hum, the only indicator the ghost heard the winged man. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

  


_ “Trying to remember… Trying to learn… And I guess, trying to forgive myself? I don’t know anymore.” _ He feels tears form in his eyes as he looks in front of himself, unblinking.

  


“In Pogtopia? You won’t find much here. It’s abandoned.”

  


_ “I know that. But, I just wanted to be here. Away from everyone I guess. It’s quieter than in my library.” _ He messes with his sweater sleeve as he hears the clack of his fathers sandals against the stone.

  


There’s a silence as Philza sits next to him, before he interrupts it.

  


_ “Dad, was I a good son? Did I… Did I make you proud at any point?” _

  


A pause. “Of course you did Wilbur. I am so proud of you, and I always will be.”

  


_ “Then why… Why are my only good memories of you from when we made lanterns and you protecting me?” _ Tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t sob or make any sounds.  _ Be strong… _

  


“I… I don’t know Wilbur. I don’t know.” The sound of wings shuffling is heard in the quiet cave.

  


_ “Phil.” _ He finally closes his eyes, more tears falling from his eyes. His own ghostly wings folding tightly to his body.

  


“Hm?”

  


**_“I’m so cold and tired.”_ **


End file.
